


Sweater Weather

by Backwardshirt



Series: Dessert for Christmas [2]
Category: Bleach
Genre: After TTYBW, Cannon Divergence, Getting Together, GrimmIchi - Freeform, Ice Play, Isshin is actually trying, Kissing, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Slight Temperature Play, Soft Boys, Touching, Ugly Holiday Sweaters, all the other kurosaki's are just little shits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:01:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28296456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Backwardshirt/pseuds/Backwardshirt
Summary: A follow up to Dessert for Christmas, Ichigo slinks downstairs in the ugliest sweater known to man, one his father made him wear...or else. After what he'd witnessed, Ichigo didn't feel like he could refuse. And where the hell did Grimmjow go in that time? Ichigo certainly didn't see him.
Relationships: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kurosaki Ichigo
Series: Dessert for Christmas [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2072574
Comments: 11
Kudos: 120





	Sweater Weather

**Author's Note:**

> You know when you look at a word too long and it doesn't look like a word anymore? Yeah, that's me with the word 'sweater'. It's not real anymore, so I hoped I spelled it right lol. I hope this doesn't feel too rushed as I wanted to get it done before Christmas was over. hahaha i already edited the ending a little bit, but I'm much happier with it over all!  
> Enjoy!

Ichigo grumbled as he made his way to the stairs. _I’m gonna get so much shit later for this._ He had changed into a different pair of jeans and a long, warm sweater. Knowing his father, Isshin probably kicked Grimmjow out instead of doing the whole _meet the family_ shit he was dreading. _And what’s there to meet, anyway, it isn’t like Grimmjow and I are…._ Ichigo’s thoughts trailed off. He didn’t quite know what there were, but calling Grimmjow his…boyfriend seemed a bit…off? _I mean, two days ago he was trying to make me eat my own teeth._ _Maybe turning off his hierro is like a kink thing or something and he just wanted to test it on somebody._ Though, it still didn’t explain why he would’ve wanted to test it on Ichigo. Probably just fodder for his insult cannon later. Ichigo frowned at the thought, deeply displeased.

 _Isshin_ met him at the top of the stairs, blocking Ichigo’s path down, arms crossed defiantly, a different, much uglier sweater thrown haphazardly across one shoulder. He could see red, jingling, bells with a garish gold garland dancing across his father’s own sweater. It looked like a child had taken a hot glue gun to town on it with the first decorations they found. Ichigo balked at the sight, knowing exactly what he wanted.

“No.”

“Yep.”

“I’m not wearing that, and you can’t make me.”

Isshin gave him a devilish grin, and Ichigo knew he was absolutely, horribly fucked. There was no way he was going to come out on top on this fight, unless he threw himself gracelessly out the window, skittering away into the night like the snowflake that got away. Maybe Urahara could take him in for the night, he owed him more than a few favors.

Briefly thinking about the scientist and whatever the hell he’d subject him to, it was probably in his best interest to not. Who the hell knew what he and Yoruichi were doing right now anyway. Ichigo sighed, looking coldly to his supposed father. 

“Either you change into this, or I’ll tie you up with kido and change you myself. Which is less embarrassing at this point?” Isshin stated, uncrossing his arms and taking an ominous step towards him. Ichigo backed up slightly and cursed. Where _was_ Grimmjow, anyway? He seriously didn’t leave him downstairs with his sisters? The only other option was that he really _did_ kick him out the door like some feral stray instead. After walking into the scene Isshin did, Ichigo couldn’t say he’d blame him, even though he absolutely would. He didn’t want to deal with his father alone, even if that meant tag teaming him with his…former enemy turned sparring partner? That was quite a mouthful. There had to be a better term, but Ichigo thought now was maybe not the best time.

“Just…just give me the damn thing,” Ichigo said, head down, blush rising, hand out. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could spike some eggnog and drink to forget.

…

It. Had. Bells. Three, shiny gold bells attached to the damn thing, plus a miniature elf body, dressed in a red little suit with a white five-pointed faux collar around his ‘neck’. Tiny, pale hand outstretched across his abdomen, like it was grasping for something. Personally, he hoped it was grasping for something he could use to set it on fire, Ichigo hated it so much—it made him look like he was pretending to be a dysfunctional bobblehead, sans bobble, unless Isshin’s next course of action was to give his head a good whack on the back of his head. That would be parr for course.

Literally the ugliest Christmas sweater he’d ever seen, and he was currently staring at his fathers, which he guessed was supposed to be a Christmas tree made of that gold garland, but it just looked like he’d rolled in a dumpster full of decorations that children had mangled to hell and back. He had a little gold star in his hands, the garland wrapping around his arms in a spiraled pattern. Ichigo cocked an eyebrow at him. As if on que, he clasped his hands together and them above his head, making the gold look like it was wrapping around him completely, holding the star between his fingers. He was supposed to be a tree, Ichigo realized. _Huh, didn’t think they were supposed to be so…hairy._

“I’m going to maim you,” Ichigo said dryly, eyebrow twitching at the mess of a person in front of him. _He was seriously a captain of the Tenth division? How many eligible people had to die to let this idiot get the spot?_ Isshin dropped his hands, and Ichigo saw the wicked grin spread across his face as he settled his hands on his hips, striking a peter pan pose, if peter pan was a forty-year-old man with a beard, one fucked up kid, and two semi normal ones. Sweat began to bead across his forehead—that wasn’t a good sign. 

“Punch him in the kidney once for me,” Grimmjow’s voice called out, as he emerged from a darkened doorway to Ichigo’s right. His father’s room, Ichigo realized. _Why did he put him in his room for…what, ten minutes max? Cool down time? What are we, seven?_ As he came into the light, Ichigo noticed two _very_ important things.

One, his mask was gone completely, replaced with a faint scar Urahara had put there as a sick joke, as were the teal markings under his eyes Ichigo would rather die than admit he liked. They made his eyes look really cool. _I mean his eyes are just as great without them, he just looks…more human I guess. Wait, he already is mostly human. Oh shit, please don’t be a monster-fucker, I couldn’t handle that today. How did he get in a gigai, anyway? He didn’t bring one here, did he? Oh god, did he hide it in my closet?_ Ichigo felt a drop of sweat roll down his back as he chased his spiraling thoughts in a panic. Not only was the sweater ugly as fuck, but it was also hotter than Yama’s tweety-bird of fire. 

And secondly, perhaps most importantly, he was wearing an equally ugly sweater. A miniature Santa body with puffy white, cotton ball like fuzzy around the white parts of ‘Santa’s’ clothing, little black buttons dotting down the front, hand outstretched. Right where it met the collar of the shirt was an almost impressive amount of the white puffy fluff. His looked a hell of a lot itchier than Ichigo’s, and it didn’t have any bells, unlike his own.

_Ohmygod,_ Ichigo realized as he stared in mute horror at it, _it’s a couple’s sweater. My dad made us wear an ugly couples Christmas sweater._ His palms were on his face before he knew it, face flushed _because it was hot damnit_ not because if they stood sides flushed, it would basically look like the sweater hands were holding hands. What the hell was wrong with his father?

Immediately Ichigo turned towards his room and started walking.

“Ichigo, where are you going?” Isshin called out behind him; he could still hear the smirk on his ugly, hairy face.

“To go get ice cream or commit a felony. I’ll decide on the roof.”

“There’s no ice cream in your room though, unless you’ve been holding out on me,” his father replied, not bothering to move. Ichigo flipped him off as he retreated further.

“I could make some out of the snow. Or drown myself in it.”

Strong arms wrapped under his own suddenly, pulling him back into the hard muscle of a chest he unfortunately recognized, hot breath floating across his ear.

“No way in hell am I being tortured alone,” Grimmjow growled out, tightening his grip. _Damn, how strong is his gigai? Fuck you Urahara._

…

_The inside door to the shoten swung open violently, bouncing off the wooden wall behind it, leaving a small scuff on the wood from the knob. You could barely tell, really. Urahara frowned until he saw Isshin step through the door, black Shinigami ropes flowing behind him, and then settled into a pleasantly annoyed expression._

_“I was under the assumption we were at peace. Have I been misled?” Urahara called out cheerfully from his position on the couch, legs parted for the devil-cat woman to sit between them. Yoruichi snorted from her position in front of him. She was sat perfectly between his knees, facing forward, a small vial of nail polish held between her curled claws. From where Isshin was standing, it looked like a deep purple, but he’d been wrong before. Like when he though he and Urahara were on the same page regarding his son’s…activities._

_No sign of Tessai or the two smaller rugrats running around, a good omen, perhaps. He would need to lecture Jinta the next time he saw him, that or kill him, whichever came last. Right now, the quicker he could get what he needed, the faster he could get back home. Who knew what those two would get up to during this time._

_Isshin guessed not much, remembering the time he waved a dirty magazine directly in Ichigo’s face while his daughters were out shopping. Ichigo had turned the most vibrant shade of red he’d ever seen, stuttering about putting that shit away. He wasn’t getting grandkids out of that one any time soon._

_“What the hell have you been letting those two do in that damned bunker exactly?” he asked, throwing a half-assed glare Urahara’s way. Urahara didn’t seem to mind, probably because he was used to people glaring at him like that._

_“Why, what have you heard?”_

_“Nothing yet, but by the thumping I’m hearing upstairs, I’m going to have to neuter a cat, and I’m no vet.”_

_Urahara chuckled lightly, and brushed a wide tooth comb through flowing purple locks. He didn’t even want to know what these two idiots were up to currently. If Isshin didn’t know any better, he’d call it a girl’s night, except it was just Urahara and Yoruichi. Last time he’d seen anything, Urahara was a man and Yoruichi didn’t appear nearly drunk enough. Probably just glad to have the ex-espada out of the house for a bit. He didn’t care to ask._

_“I see. He likes to touch things when his hierro is deactivated.” Isshin rolled his eyes at the explanation. Deactivated made the man sound like a robot, not some horny cat-arrancar trying to get his hands on his sons jewels._

_“No. He likes to touch my son,” Isshin corrected, crossing his arms and staring down the man on the couch. Urahara just waved the comb around, tomato to-ma-to, he seemed to say, before Yoruichi directed it back to her hair before cracking open the vial and begin painting. It had silver flecks in it too. That color would look nice on his little Yuzu if it wasn’t being tainted by the she-devil before him._

_“Oh relax, Isshin. It’s not like he knows what he’s doing,” she said coolly, blowing on a thumbnail. “It’s not like they were getting any action when Aizen was there. He’s about as experienced as a newborn kitten.” Isshin couldn’t help but think the blue-haired man would try to stab her for saying that, and how she knew anything of the matter he really didn’t want to know._

_“Funny, that doesn’t make me feel better,” he countered, eyes following her painting movements. She had moved on to the middle finger, raising it high in the air as she painted it. Urahara was parting her hair with the comb, directly down the middle of her head and separating the hair. To Isshin it looked like he was going to attempt dutch braids. Karin’s hair was long enough for them, but she would never let him try. Yuzu still kept her hair shorter and pinned back in little barrettes. That and unfortunately, Ichigo was better at braiding anyway, the little shit._

_“Psssh, you shoulda seen the look on his face when I showed him what porn was for the first time. He was absolutely horrified.”_

_“I didn’t ask,” Isshin said hurriedly to keep her from continuing, taking a step towards them and looking inside the room, eyes passing across the mostly bare floor. The coffee table had been scooted forward to allow for the one car braid train. It didn’t look like the gigai was in there._

_“Then again, I think it was a man and a woman, guess I’ll need to find some man on—”_

_“Definitely didn’t ask,” he said cutting her off and walking to look behind the couch. No half-dead Grimmjow like body there either._

_“His gigai is in his room.” His room? So he really did stay here enough to have a semi-permanent place to live, huh. How often did he and Ichigo…spar exactly?_

_“Though, it seems to have an opposite effect on him, which may or may not be better,” Urahara offered, sectioning one half of her head into three strands._

_“Opposite effect?”_

_“He likes to be touched in the gigai. So if something happens, it’s entirely Ichigo’s fault.”_

_Isshin rubbed his temples, stuck between a rock and a hard place. How did Urahara even figure this stuff out? On second thought, better not to ask. He could get shit done a lot quicker without the explanation, though Isshin wasn’t sure if it was always…up to code._

_“They’ve got to grow up sometime, Isshin,” Yoruichi said, grinning ferally at him, a mischievous look in her eyes._

_“Not while his sisters are in the house.”_

_“So send them here,” she quipped, not missing a beat._

_Isshin snorted. “With you two horny perverts running around? Absolutely not.”_

_Yoruichi tipped her head back to look at Isshin and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “We could teach’em a thing or two.”_

_“You’ve both helped me countlessly throughout these years, and I doubt I’ll ever be able to repay you completely for it, but I want to let you know. If I could cut you off and ground you, I absolutely would.”_

_Yoruichi laughed._

_“It’s funny hearing you talk like a parent.”_

_Isshin rolled his eyes before flash-stepping to the upstairs rooms. It didn’t’ take long to find the right one, gigai was right where Urahara said it would be, laying neatly on top of the bed, just waiting for a soul to step into it. Isshin looked at it for a moment. According to Urahara, the man had calmed down immeasurably over the last year, his main goal just to spar with Ichigo. Teal estigma gone from his eyes, Isshin lifted up his short white sleeve shirt slightly and noted the hole was gone as well. Urahara was really a genius, that, or their bodies weren’t all that different, Isshin wasn’t quite sure which was worse at the moment._

_Sticking a finger in its mouth, and pulling the lip up, Isshin didn’t see or feel the fangs he’d saw the first and only time he’d met the man. What Ichigo saw in him, he didn’t know, but he could make his own decisions. So long as his decisions wouldn’t let everyone hear them going at it. Maybe he would actually need to throw up the silencing kido after all._

_Time running out, he threw the gigai over his shoulder like a useless lump, which was only slightly more than what he figured the guy usually was, as far as he was concerned, and flash stepped back downstairs. Urahara had half of it done, puffy braid settled around her shoulder. It was a good look for her, and Urahara was surprisingly good at doing it._

_“If I have to hear my son have sex with this man, I’m killing both of you.”_

_“Good luck~” Urahara and Yoruichi called out simultaneously as he stepped away, flashing home as quickly as possible. Anything from his beautiful girls from getting mentally scarred by a hormonal teenage boy._

_…._

Introductions were weird, even when he did know what to say. They were about fifteen times worse when he didn’t know. Karin and Yuzu gawked at him from their place by the table before Yuzu finally spoke up.

“Will we be needing another plate?”

Ichigo scratched the back of his head and smiled awkwardly at her. Karin’s arms were crossed as she glared at the blue haired man beside her. Of all the people in the house, he looked the least off-put, strangely enough, eyes shifting around the room, taking in all the decorations, he suspected.

“Uh…yeah. Thanks.” 

Yuzu shuffled around and set another place at the table, next to Ichigo. The house looked like the spirit of Christmas had went and got drunk, throwing up all over their downstairs living area. Garland decorating the crowning of the walls, tree shining in the corner, more garland around the tables, some lit, some not, glowing softly. It made Ichigo feel all warm. Or at least, it would, if he didn’t have to make introductions to his sisters about the arrancar with his father hovering over them like a hawk, looking for just one sign of weakness. He didn’t know where the hell Kon was. Maybe he scuttled back up to his room?

“So do we get his name or do we get to call him whatever we want?” Karin asked, looking between them, breaking the silence.

“Oh, right. Sorry, his name is Grimm—”

“Too late. I’m calling him Smurf.”

“Karin that’s not his na—”

“What the fuck’s a—”

“Don’t give a shit.”

“Watch the language—”

“No!” Karin and Ichigo said simultaneously at their father, turning and glaring at him. He raised his hands in defense, Yuzu laughing in the background. Kon was standing on the kitchen counter, glaring at Grimmjow from around the wall. _Looks like he’s pissed, great._ Just what he wanted for Christmas.

Yuzu came around the counter a moment later out of the kitchen and stood right beside Grimmjow, looking up into his face, radiating light like a softly glowing candle. _She got every trusting gene in this family,_ Ichigo thought. _And it’s going to give me a heart-attack._

“I for one would like to know your name,” she said, smiling sweetly up at him, hands behind her back gripping a ladle loosely between her fingers. _She’s much too good for this world._

Ichigo witnessed as Grimmjow looked at him once, and then back down to his favorite sister and shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants. _Please don’t tell me those are my dad’s pants. I couldn’t look at him the same way every again._

“Grimmjow,” was all he said. Yuzu deposited the ladle in the pocket or her apron and held out her hand to him.

“It’s very nice to meet you Grimmjow,” she said, beaming at him. “I’m Yuzu, and that’s Karin.” Grimmjow looked at her outstretched hand, one eyebrow slightly raised. Ichigo watched in mute horror as she slowly reached down with her other hand and lightly grabbed his own, still buried in the jean pocket, and pulling at it lightly. _Those are definitely a pair of dad’s jeans._ He followed her motions as she brought it up to meet her other hand before curling her fingers around his large hand the best she could and giving it a couple of shakes.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said once more, smiling warmly, and dropped her hands, fluttering back to the kitchen. “Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes! Kon, can you hand me that?”

Ichigo turned his attention to Grimmjow who was standing still as death in the middle of the floor between the living room and kitchen, staring at his hand like it knew the secrets of all three worlds. Isshin looked like he was about to have a small heard of cows, Karin had gotten bored and wandered into the living room, standing in front of the tree, topper star in her hands. Glancing over, he noticed the tree was all decorated, multi-colored lights emitting a soft glow in the corner of the room, minus the big gold star radiating on the top. Looking back to Grimmjow, Ichigo watched as he traced something on his hand lightly, eyebrows furrowed, scowl less…scowly, if that was possible. The guy had three max facial expressions, and two of them he used for violence. The third was for irritation purposes only. Truthfully, Ichigo was just glad he hadn’t bit her.

“Grimmjow are you—”

“Hey Smurf! Come in here for a minute!”

That snapped Grimmjow out of his stupor instantly, snarl on his face, expression number two, Ichigo recalled faintly, and he stomp-walked into the living room towards her. Ichigo felt himself reach for a sword that wasn’t there and remembered they were in human bodies. _Oh shit._ _Karin you don’t poke this lion like you do Kon, this guy can actually hurt you,_ he thought as he helplessly watched Grimmjow approach his other favorite sister.

“What do you want, brat?” he growled at her, arms crossed defiantly and towering over her. Her neck was quite literally looking directly up at what Ichigo hoped was his irritation face. Isshin was in the kitchen with Yuzu, not witnessing Grimmjow getting ready to murder one of his two favorite children.

Karin held up the gold star that usually sat at the top of the tree. _Testing. She’s testing him,_ Ichigo realized, not bothering to say that _he_ was usually the one who helped put the star on top, but he just watched as Grimmjow stared at it before taking it and running his fingers along the rough, glittery surface.

He pulled back his hand a moment later, fingers covered in gaudy gold glitter and tried to wipe it on the sweater, making it uglier, if that was even possible. As expected of glitter it didn’t come off. Opting for another technique, Grimmjow promptly tried to lick it off. Tongue hanging out and looking for Ichigo for…advice apparently, eyebrows furrowed in disgust, Ichigo snorted at the sight. His first advice would’ve been to _not_ lick the glittered finger in the first place. Karin was laughing by this point, watching as Grimmjow didn’t know what the hell to do with the star. At least he didn’t try biting the thing directly.

“Karin quit being mean to him,” was all Ichigo could manage to say. _He kinda deserves this though, after the turmoil he put my dick through earlier._ Grimmjow turned to her a second later.

“Yeah Karin, quit being mean,” he said mockingly, mimicking Ichigo’s voice, which only made her laugh harder. Ichigo put a hand over his mouth to muffle the laughter threatening to escape. This hadn’t been the meeting he’d expected, but so far, he’d take it. Kon had taken the distraction and used it to scramble over to Ichigo’s leg, clinging onto the fabric of his pants. He reached down and plopped him onto his shoulder; he was basically already a parrot, minus well have the whole package. Though, he was a little bit cuter, not that Ichigo would ever tell him that.

“So how was the,” Kon cleared his through lightly, “ _alone time.”_ Ichigo rolled his eyes.

“Say anything else, and I’m taking you to Uryu’s,” Ichigo whispered to him, pinching his plush leg.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” Grimmjow asked, breaking Kon’s concentration and discontinuing their miniature argument. Turning the star over, looking at the wiring and plug-in cord and pulling at it, Ichigo hoped he wouldn’t try to put that in his mouth either.

“It’s the star, it goes on top of the tree,” Karin said, as if that was supposed to explain everything to a man who probably didn’t even know what Christmas was, let alone where to put the star on a tree with shiny stuff hanging from it.

“Why?” He looked at the tree then, seeming unimpressed. “Don’t these things belong outside?”

“It isn’t a real tree,” was all she said, hand going up and twisting some of the fake pine needles.

“So you have a fake tree inside instead.”

“Yes.”

“And you put shit on it,” he continued, running a single finger along one of shiny glass balls. It was almost the same shade as his hair, Ichigo noticed.

“Yes.”

“And a star on top,” he finished holding up the golden points to her.

“Yep.”

He turned to Ichigo.

“Has Kiskue been feeding your family any of his drugs?” Ichigo laughed then, startling Kon, who let out a small yelp of surprise and smacked him on the back of the head.

“Nothing would surprise me at this point, but this is usual for this time of year.” Ichigo pinched Kon’s ear and twisted slightly, forcing him to stop his plushy abuse of his head.

“What Karin is asking is will you help her put the star on the tree? She’s too short to do it herself, so I always lift her on my shoulders,” he straight up lied, looking directly at her with a grin. She clenched her fists and opened her mouth to say something but was cut off by Grimmjow grabbing her and practically wrestling her onto his shoulders. Isshin bolted into the living room as she screamed, but even Ichigo could tell it was half done in glee, if the stupid smile plastered on her face was anything to go by. If Grimmjow knew Ichigo was lying, he certainly didn’t care, as he was able to get her situated. They were fifteen now, probably too big for any such things, not that it would’ve stopped Ichigo either.

“What is going on in here?” Isshin asked, as he looked to his son, to his daughter setting atop an arrancar’s shoulders, star in hand.

“Decorating!” she called out gleefully, one hand clawed onto the top of Grimmjow’s head the other reaching out to try and put it on the star. One of Grimmjow’s hands was holding onto her knee, anchoring her, the other hand on top of the one in his hair. Ichigo watched his expression filter though a wide array of emotions before settling on what he assumed was…some kind of contentment. _Huh, so that’s a fourth facial expression._ It was weird to see him so casual with his sister, but as long as he wasn’t trying to eviscerate anyone, destroying anything, or licking the star, he could keep on doing…whatever he was doing.

After Karin got the star squared away to her liking, Grimmjow promptly threw her off into the soft couch; she didn’t seem to mind as she grinned up at him, side-eyeing her brother with a twinkle in her eye.

“You’ve got my approval. Just make sure to use protection,” she said, winking at Ichigo. Ichigo felt his face heat up that moment as he heard his father sputter around behind him.

“Whaaaa Karin where on earth—”

“I’m fifteen Dad.” Good. Now Isshin _and_ Ichigo had questions.

“Protection for what? I can’t fight in this body,” Grimmjow said, narrowing his eyes on her. Karin looked at him with wide eyes for a second, trying to tell if he was speaking the truth, before she decided she didn’t care, and doubled over in a fit of laughter, tears streaming from her eyes.

Ichigo grinned sheepishly over to Isshin who was scowling at the scene. _Is Christmas over yet?_

…

Isshin was helping Ichigo clear the table as Grimmjow, having secured his place as the girls’ favorite person, muscled himself between the two girls on the couch, legs propped up on the coffee table like he’d lived here his whole fucking life. Yuzu was cooing over his hair, asking what he used to style it, while Karin was showing him dumb youtube videos. Ichigo rolled his eyes at the sight.

Isshin pinched Ichigo’s arm after he set the water on the hottest he could stand and began to fill up the sink.

“What the hell are you doing?” he hissed at his father, eyebrow twitching, hand hovering over the spray nozzle attached to the sink. His father sighed, rolling his eyes and flashed him a toothy grin. 

“It’s your Christmas present.” Ichigo blinked. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“Matching ugly sweaters?” _Or were you hoping death by embarrassment kind of thing?_

Isshin snorted like he was an idiot. Ichigo felt like, maybe, just maybe, he was a little bit of one at the moment, his mind hazy with the confusion that Grimmjow, ex-sixth expada of Aizen’s army was in his house, nestled between his sisters like a weird ice-cream-arrancar sandwich, and wearing a one of the ugliest sweaters known to man, next to Ichigo’s equally ugly sweater, and letting his sisters get their hands all over him. That last part was the most surprising, given how he was usually so averse to it. _Minus literally the whole evening that happened tonight._ Had they turned a new page in whatever their relationship was? Ichigo didn’t know, but he was sure Kon would never let him live it down. 

Speaking of.

“Ichigo, for someone who is so smart, you are a complete moron sometimes, you know that?”

Ichigo swiveled his head around to look at the irritating beast on the counter, swinging his little legs on the edge, arms crossed in a huff. Spying some left-over flour still plastered on the bottom of one paw, Ichigo lifted him up and patted the bottom of his foot-hand-paw thing harshly, earing numerous yells about _dignity_ and _playing nice_ and _why couldn’t he just go to Orihimie’s._

“You know he’s right,” Isshin said lamely, as he watched his son assault the mod-soul. _At least he’s not freaking out about what he barged into earlier._ He was a little embarrassed to be caught off guard like that, especially since he had almost come undone underneath the arrancar by just his touch.

“Kiskue told me something,” he said quietly, finishing a cup of (definitely spiked) eggnog and depositing the cup in the warm water of the sink. Walking over to the fridge he opened the freezer and took something out, shutting it behind him. Turning to face Ichigo fully, his face was serious, like he had made a decision and held out his hand.

“Don’t care,” Ichigo said, crossing his hands in an X formation across his chest, even though he very much did care, especially since he figured it was probably about Grimmjow. 

“Try ice,” he said, plopping a few cold cubes into Ichigo’s hand. _Excuse me, but what? Try ice with what? Food poisoning isn’t my cup of sink water._ Ichigo made direct eye contact with his father as he dropped the cubes into the water of the sink. It needed to be cooled down anyway. Isshin sighed and shook his head. It was then Ichigo noticed he had his coat on. Was he going somewhere?

“His regular body is more sensitive to touching apparently.” Isshin produced a pair of black gloves and began putting them on. _That’s definitely a fact._

“But in his gigai he’s a little more sensitive to…being touched.”

Ichigo looked at him dumbly.

“Aren’t those the same thing?”

“You are the definition of a lost cause.” Kon said, shaking his head and hopping onto his father’s broad shoulders, grabbing at the black fabric to steady himself. Isshin agreed as he called out for the girls to get their coats on.

“We’re going to walk around and look at the lights for a little while,” he continued cheerfully as the girls sprag from their seats, startling Grimmjow. _Was he asleep?_ Ichigo shrugged as he went to grab his coat, but Isshin stopped him.

“You’ve got about forty-five minutes to… _do the dishes._ Don’t start anything you can’t finish,” he grumbled out as he shepherded his sisters out the door, yelling about lights and cocoa, slamming the door behind him.

“What was that about?” Grimmjow asked, yawning and stretching, riding the sweater up on his stomach slightly. Ichigo could see the faintest wisp of blue hair leading into his pants, and looked elsewhere quickly, fighting down his blush. He didn’t need to see that, shouldn’t have seen that, and did Grimmjow _know_ he had that?

“Ah, dunno really. Probably just being dumb,” Ichigo said, turning around to the sink. One of the ice cubes hadn’t completely melted so he fished it out and gripped it tightly in his hands, feeling it melt away, cool water slipping between his fingers like finely ground sand. There weren’t a lot of dishes to do thankfully, just the plates and silverware. Ichigo listened to the glasses clink together lightly as he put them into the water.

A hand was on either side of him, as he felt heat on his back, boxing him in. Ichigo stopped dropping dishes into the sink one-handed, concentration completely broken. If he didn’t clean the dishes and put them away properly, Yuzu would have an army of cows. She’d already yelled at him once this week about the dishes not being alphabetized, whatever the fuck that meant. 

“Damn, these things are hot,” Grimmjow muttered behind him, chin scratching itself on Ichigo’s woolen shoulder, presumably watching what he was doing with boredom. _It’s not going to get any cooler with you standing so close, idiot,_ he thought. _Wait a minute._ Then the light switch flicked on in Ichigo’s brain, an event that happened much less than he’d like to admit.

“Ohmygod he was talking about temperature play,” Ichigo said, bowing his head slightly over the sink, embarrassed that he hadn’t understood earlier. That and he couldn’t believe his _father_ was basically giving him _sex_ advice. _Oh shit, he said forty-five minutes. When was that, ten minutes ago? Fuck!_

“Temperature play? What’s that? You can’t mess with the weather too now, can you?” Grimmjow’s breath was hot on the back of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine.

Ichigo chucked lightly at the innocence, a word he thought he’d never use to describe the homicidal maniac behind him, and turned around to face sleepy blue eyes.

“I’m going to need you to trust me for a second, okay?” Ichigo said, looking up slightly into his eyes, watching as his own traitorous hand raised to run a thumb lightly over where his estigma should be. Grimmjow watched his hand move, the deep crease usually in his brows vanishing, and nudged into it slightly when he stopped, eyes closing half-way.

“Trust ya more’n that,” he said quietly, eyes slipping shut completely. Ichigo felt a flower of warmth bloom in his chest, wider and fuller than last time. Keeping the hand on his face, Ichigo flattened the other on the man’s chest, on his right side, right over his ribs and slid his hand down slowly, until it found the hem of the sweater. His hand should still be a little cold from the ice, so hopefully this would work out in his favor. That or he’d get his hand bitten off.

Slowly, he slipped his hand under the scratchy fabric of the woolen sweater and pressed his fingertips flush against the meat of his waist. Ichigo felt him flinch slightly at the sensation, but he said nothing. Dragging his fingers in a circling motion, Ichigo flicked his gaze back to his face—eyes still shut, mouth parted minimally. Taking fingers away from Grimmjow’s eyes, Ichigo pushed his hand through blue strands of hair, massaging into his scalp with shallow motions.

Grimmjow blinked lazily and shifted his hands until they were sunk into Ichigo’s hips, and leaned into him, head tilted down, almost resting against his shoulder, into the wooly fabric of the hideous sweater. Ichigo scratched his scalp harder, earning a soft noise of pleasure from Grimmjow’s parted lips. It was then, as he seemed ready to fall asleep, he pressed his cold hand flush against the skin of his side.

Grimmjow hissed, digging his nails into Ichigo’s skin as he smoothed his hand up closer to Grimmjow’s ribs, feeling the strain of tightened muscle against his fingers, chest moving in shallow motions, short, panted breaths creeping over the exposed skin on Ichigo’s neck.

“Sensitive skin, huh?” he asked, voice low and hoarse, like he hadn’t used it in days. Grimmjow’s nails dug in hard enough to bruise, as Ichigo felt his head nod, hair rubbing against his upper neck. Leaning closer, he rested his cheek on the side of Grimmjow’s head as he trailed his hand along his upper body, following the obvious muscle definition with slow, deliberate movements. He was sure his hand was warm now, but that didn’t seem to bother Grimmjow.

Ichigo pretended not to hear the small whine of protest as he untangled himself from blue hair and pale skin, walking over to the fridge and scooping up a handful of ice, depositing it in a clean plastic cup, popping one into his mouth for good measure. He wasn’t quite sure what his next move was, but Grimmjow looked at him expectantly, faint pink dusting high on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. They locked eyes for a moment; Ichigo watched as Grimmjow absently rubbed the side he had touched with his cold hand, tongue working around the cold cube in his mouth and pondering his next move. All he knew was that he was handing out a double dose of payback for earlier. 

Taking another cube of ice between his middle and pointer finger, he set the cup an arm length away from Grimmjow and tangled his hand back into blue hair, pulling his head to the side and exposing his neck, earning a low growl from the other man. With his other hand, Ichigo slid the ice up his skin where his hand had been a couple minutes earlier. Grimmjow shivered against him, leaning into him even more than last time, feeling as his weight pushed the small bell glued onto Ichigo’s sweater into his side.

Rolling the melting cube in his mouth, Ichigo spoke, “Sit on the countertop for a minute.” Grimmjow pushed off him slightly, a questioning look in his eyes, and Ichigo offered him a small, mischievous smile, a promise of pleasure, he’d hoped.

Ichigo sucked on the remnants of the ice, pushing it between his lips with his tongue, while Grimmjow did as he was told, situating himself on the white top, leaning over his knees. Crushing the rest of the cube between his teeth, Ichigo pressed his warm hand into the center of the arrancar’s chest and pushed him up, straitening his body out, back of his head brushing up against the plate cabinet.

Yanking the hideous Santa sweater up roughly to the base of his neck, getting ample view of skin and muscle, Ichigo gently pushed his knees apart, allowing enough space for him to fit between, Grimmjow looking at him curiously, eyebrow raised. He did not, however, stop him, as his face leaned forward, closer and closer to the exposed skin in front of him.

Ichigo pressed his lips against warm, scarred flesh, following the trail of the scar Ichigo had given him up to the crescent one wrapping around his neck. Grimmjow arched his back slightly, releasing a small groan. Ichigo smiled into his skin, and ran the melting ice over a hardening nipple once, electing another moan, the body barely trembling beneath him, cold water dripping down his skin, rolling over hot skin, until it was absorbed by the top of his jeans.

Grimmjow’s fingers raked through his hair as his arms moved past, settling their weight down on his shoulders. Gaze flicking upwards once, Ichigo saw him leaning his head back, resting it against the cabinet, face definitely redder than it had been moments ago. Ichigo smiled into his skin, and moved his face up over the sweater, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to the center of his throat, right next to his Adam’s apple. Honestly, he was surprised Grimmjow was letting him do this, he always complained about his neck being a vulnerable place, but maybe, just maybe he meant erogenous. Giving the skin of his neck a small suck, hoping to leave a small hickey, he felt Grimmjow move more into it, pressing his skin more fully against Ichigo’s lips. _Yep, definitely erogenous. Damn, dad had a point with this._

Ichigo threw the messy cube into the sink, hearing it hit the side in a small _clink_ as he pressed his cold and wet hand against the man’s hot chest once more. Ichigo felt Grimmjow’s breath hitch in his throat, and trailed his fingers down slowly as he continued working his lips against the thick, strained neck. His hand was slightly numb from the ice, but he didn’t care, as he brushed along the center of his lower abdomen, across the wispy blue hair leading down. Ichigo felt the man tense up as he scratched his fingernails across the area, emitting a dull moan.

“I think you like being touched more than doing the touching,” Ichigo mouthed against his throat. He was so glad Grimmjow’s eyes were closed, that way he couldn’t see his face aflame. To be truthful, he had no idea what he was doing, but things were definitely going well, so he had no intentions on stopping. Teasing him was too fun not to continue, even if Ichigo was slightly embarrassed by some of the sounds Grimmjow was making for him. Embarrassed, but in a good way. He knew damn well no one else could get him to make those sounds, so while his face was flushed, he relished in it.

He felt more than heard the low growl in the back of Grimmjow’s throat, and moved as he settled his head down, looking in Ichigo’s eyes with heavy, half-open lids. “Think so, huh?” His voice was breathy, and came out more as a pant than as a voice with pitch. Ichigo gave him a lopsided half smile and nodded once, leaning closer to Grimmjow’s face, dropping the hand holding his sweater up in favor of running both hands over the chiseled chest.

Grimmjow met him halfway, leaning his mouth against Ichigo’s own, molding and pressing against each other’s, setting Ichigo’s body on fire by the touch, hands snaking back into orange hair. Clawing only slight trembling hands down his chest, Ichigo felt him hiss into his mouth as he drug each hand across his pecs and down his side, over ribs. Pulling back for a moment, Grimmjow looked into his face, lips slightly red, the scar on his right side very visible, like he’d taken a knife to it and cut deep into the skin.

“Been wanting to do that for fuckin’ forever,” he mumbled, staring at Ichigo’s equally red lips, he was sure.

“Yeah?” He tried to keep his voice level, but even so it came out too strained. Too hopeful.

“Yeah,” Grimmjow drawled out, pressing his lips against his again.

Ichigo thought his chest was going to burst. Has this what the whole turn-off-hierro had been about? So he could touch and be touched by Ichigo, senses full and alert to ever single sensation? _Talk about a Christmas present,_ he thought, dragging his hands lower, to the belt around Grimmjow’s waist, holding up pants that, much to Ichigo’s dismay, _definitely_ belonged to his father. _That_ would be a crisis for another time, far, far away. Ichigo broke the kiss to look down as he undid the notching and slipped the belt right out of the loops slowly, feeling as Grimmjow ground slightly closer to him, faces close, but not touching.

Right as Ichigo’s fingers worked with the button on the jeans, he heard voices outside, the door knob turning as if someone was shaking it, startling them both at the sound. _Damnit,_ he thought as he stopped and yanked Grimmjow’s sweater down roughly and tried to make him look less…horny, he guessed. But the more he touched him, fingers smoothing through messed up hair, trying to get the belt back on, the more wanton he looked, eyes lidded, lips parted, and panting shallowly.

“ _Damnit really, Grimmjow?”_ Ichigo whisper-hissed as Grimmjow pressed his face to Ichigo’s cheek, rubbing on him. _Scenting_ him, probably, Ichigo thought. _Guess a cat is still a cat, right body or not._

Grimmjow emitted, what Ichigo could only describe as a slight low purr, against the skin of his neck as Ichigo felt a small lick against him, sending a slight shiver down his spine. 

“We need to get you elsewhere. Now.” If his father saw how they both looked, Ichigo would be sleeping in a chastity kido belt for the rest of his life. He’d have to go to Urahara and beg him to take it off, and that wasn’t on top of his to-do list currently. It really couldn’t have been forty-five minutes already, right? His father was torturing him for the hell of it now.

“Mmhm to finish what you started, right,” Grimmjow purred against his ear, rubbing his face against him once more. _Man, he must really like being touched in this body,_ Ichigo thought feeling as his soft hair rubbed against his cheek.

Ichigo could hear his father’s obnoxious voice, loud and louder as he opened the door and shrugged off his coat. His voice was grating, like nails on the chalkboard in Ichigo’s mind. 

“Yeah sure but you can’t stay down here looking…like that.” Ichigo could feel a sense of panic bubble into his voice, as Grimmjow still made no indications of moving off the counter, his arms beginning to wrap back around Ichigo’s shoulders. Digging a couple fingers into the denim jeans, Ichigo pinched his thigh sharply and tugged at his arms, trying to force him off the counter. He still hadn’t done the dishes, he noticed, looking over at the sink. _Yuzu is going to feed me cold take-out for a week._

Grimmjow groaned slightly, but slid off the countertop, letting Ichigo pull him towards the stairs, slouching heavily against him.

“You’ve got to move a littler faster than that you lazy cat,” Ichigo grumbled over his shoulder, yanking lightly on his hand. He noticed it didn’t have any callouses, replaced by soft, supple skin.

Thankfully Isshin was taking his sweet time, which was probably the plan anyway, giving the two men enough time to…look respectable. Ichigo could manage fine, Grimmjow on the other hand….

A growl close to Ichigo’s ear stopped him halfway up the stairs, one hand not clasped in Ichigo’s snaking around his waist, pulling him into the mans chest, feeling the heat of his gigai pierce the itchy wool of his elf sweater. Grimmjow flicked at the bell on one of the elf shoes, cocking his head slightly as it jingled.

“You’re not disproving my point, you know,” Ichigo said, leaning back trying to see him, not bothering to contain his laughter.

“Whatever, Kurosaki. You gonna take me to bed or what?” the man asked, flicking the bell once more and flattening a palm right over Ichigo’s heart, feeling his pules quicken as his face went beet red at the arrancar’s suggestion. There was a groan from behind them both.

“Oh god, I’d hoped you two would’ve been done by now,” a voice called out from the bottom of the stairs. Ichigo recognized his fathers voice…and his irritation.

He felt Grimmjow shift slightly, probably to look at his father. Ichigo wondered what his face looked like in that moment. Was he blushing? Ichigo sure as hell was. Being caught like this was just as bad as last time, if not worse. His father had actually _heard_ what Grimmjow said. He wasn’t going to be able to look him in the eyes every again. Maybe he really _would_ need to stay with Urahara for a little bit.

“Just getting’ started old man,” Grimmjow said, voice sharp as a razor suddenly. “Better throw up that kido like you promised.”

Ichigo could hear his father screaming through his bloodline, the sound was so visceral, and was almost positive he’d be staying at Urahara’s tonight.

“Just do it already, old man,” Karin’s voice said, cutting through Ichigo’s thoughts of drowning himself in the bathroom sink.

“We already know what’s going to happen anyway,” Ichigo heard the clicking of a tongue in displeasure. Hopefully at Isshin, but who knew at this point, everything was so fucked up.

“But—but you and Yuzu—”

“Have you never been on the internet once in your life?” Yuzu said next to Karin, a smile in her voice. Ichigo could’ve sighed in relief, at least his sisters had his back, even if it was an embarrassing as hell situation.

He felt Grimmjow turn back and push on him, urging him up to the stairs. Ichigo certainly didn’t know how this was going to pan out, but he’d take the chance.

“Use protection~” Karin and Yuzu called out simultaneously from behind him before their footsteps softened, heading to the living room, he guessed. His father’s silent scream hit his back as he continued up the stairs.

Ichigo sighed. _This is gonna be a long night,_ he thought as he felt a pair of eyes glaring on at the scene, irritated, but defeated. As he opened the door he felt Grimmjow’s hand snake up his sweater, making the bell jingle once as he caressed the warm skin on his stomach, dragging an almost claw-like fingernail across his navel.

_For more than one reason._

**Author's Note:**

> TBH I didn't actually plan on doing anything more for Dessert for Christmas, but I got quite a few comments wanting more, so hopefully this doesn't disappoint. I may come back and edit more later,but this needed to leave my system lol. I can't think about two stories at once, it reaaaallly doesn't work I've found.  
> The line about the ice cream or committing a felony is a line from Golden Girls and the alphabetized plate thing is from a vine or a meme I think? I dont remember where i saw it but thought it was funny and wanted to use it. 
> 
> Thanks again for all the comments and kudos! :D  
> Merry Christmas!


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